Unwilling Dancer
by solitaryloner
Summary: She had never liked him. She knew she irritated him - she knew he considered her to be a pest. And she would never do anything to let him know that secretly, she craved his approval. Until the night of her eighteenth birthday, when she finally decides to try dancing to the beat of his music - and she realised he wasn't anything like what she thought he was. LenKu. Language warning.


_**Solitaryloner: **__This is me trying to get rid of my writer's block. I haven't written anything remotely like a story in a really long time, so please don't expect too much. My standard has probably dropped a lot in the past few weeks._

_This is T rated, borderline M. Heavy fluff. You might not want to read this unless you are a fan of this pairing. But hey, if you want to torture yourself with my crappy writing, you're free to knock yourself out. Language warning._

* * *

_Spin. Dance. Move along to the beat – you know there's no stopping…_

_Hey. It all depends on what kind of music you listen to, you know? A slow song, a smooth beat – a serenade, a ballroom dance – rough and violent, fast and demanding – so long as you get up and dance, it doesn't have to matter._

She didn't like it. She found it so hard to breathe. The bodies spun and moved around her, a system where only pure energy reigned and thrived - she, a simple girl with secrets to hide, had no place within this bright maelström of colour. After all, she was invisible. And all these other people were not.

_What am I doing here?_

"You're being awfully quiet," Rin commented. Like she didn't know that was the problem. She wasn't supposed to be so quiet in here. It was annoying her, though the others hadn't appeared to notice. Well, other than Rin. Only Rin bothered to really pay attention…it was strange, how observant the usually ditzy girl could be. She knew Rin only pretended to act like a typical blonde, most of the time. She was a smart girl – smarter than what most people thought.

"I feel like I don't belong with the rest of you," she answered, her eyes narrowing in the direction of the dance floor. Rin's twin brother, Len Kagamine, was laughing with his group of friends – girls and guys both – and she felt a little twinge of jealousy flicker through her. She ignored the twinge. He was nothing but a boy – she saw no point in being jealous. They were only friends.

"You didn't have to come with the rest of us if you didn't want to," it sounded almost hostile, the way the words were said. She just cast Rin a look – Rin withdrew under the intensity of her piercing gaze. People always told her that she had a strangely piercing stare – like she could see through someone's exterior to their very soul. She wondered why – a guilty conscience, maybe?

Len turned his head, his blue eyes meeting hers. Instantly, his smile was wiped off his face – his expression grave and serious, those eyes turning cold. She just smiled in response, raising her glass; her whiskey swirled around in the glass, amber liquid shimmering under the strobe lights of the nightclub. His beautiful blue eyes narrowed – with a sense of finality, he turned away from her.

"You know he doesn't like it when you drink," Rin sounded disapproving now. She simply rolled her eyes – Rin always took her brother's side about everything. She wished the blond haired twins wouldn't always disagree with whatever she was doing. She was old enough to look after herself – and Len, especially, had no excuse to constantly look over her shoulder, trying to control every single thing she did. She didn't appreciate his nagging.

_I mean, it's not like he sets a particularly good example._

He didn't have any right to control her just because he was one year older than her. Len and Rin were friends with her older brother, Mikuo. She had finally turned eighteen, so they took her along with them to this nightclub, to celebrate her coming of age. Len hated the way she was drinking. Probably because he thought that she couldn't hold her drink. She wasn't sure, herself, how much alcohol she could handle – but if she didn't try, how would she know?

Mikuo had long left the place, with some blonde dangling off his arm – he trusted Len and Rin to take her back home. She didn't need them – she didn't need anyone to look after her. She was eighteen now, a young woman, capable in her own right, and she didn't need the concerned lookout of either one of the Kagamine twins. She suspected that they knew about how she felt, too.

"How are things going between you and Nero?" Rin suddenly piped up, her gaze drifting out to the dance floor. Len had completely stopped dancing now – he was making out with Neru Akita, her ex-boyfriend's older sister. She didn't care, but she did find the sight strangely disturbing – the way their hands roamed over each other, searching and groping. Maybe it was because Len was a hated brotherly figure to her. All this made him seem so…overly exposed.

"We broke up," she answered bluntly, her fingers tightening subtly around her glass of whiskey. Rin shot her a startled look, and she simply shrugged, taking another sip. "He found someone else…and anyway, I lost interest months ago," Len broke away from Neru. She watched, mildly fascinated, as he turned a little, seeming to look for her. She glanced away from him as his gaze settled on her.

_She could feel his hot breath, brushing lightly against her ear. Blue eyes deep and piercing enough to drown in. His blond hair tickled her neck. "Let the music fill you up, lose yourself to its beat, just lose yourself to everything but the dance…so long as you dance, everything will be all right," his voice was a spell. She was helpless. She hated it – she hated him – she couldn't resist it._

_Show me how much you want me._

His eyes spoke the words, branding them upon her skin. His gaze seared her. She ignored him still, downing the rest of her whiskey in one large gulp. The alcohol burnt her throat. She wanted to gag. She didn't. Rin watched, looking slightly horrified, as she reached up to wipe the back of her hand against her mouth. "You'd better not throw up," was the only thing the blonde said to her.

"I won't," she wondered if that was a lie. She did feel a little sick now. "I need to go to the bathroom," she'd better be near a sink, just in case the churning feeling in her stomach decided to manifest itself in a different way. She really didn't want to puke all over her shirt. This was her favourite top.

"I'll go with you," Rin automatically offered. She shook her head – _no, there's no need to trouble you _– and went on her way. She stumbled away from the counter, realising blatantly that she was a little drunk. Not enough to lose her senses, but enough to throw her off her balance. Abruptly, she straightened her back – she didn't want Rin to become concerned…or for Len to notice her.

She managed to find her way to the toilet without any assistance. Clutching at the sink, she glanced up at the mirror, at her own reflection – her normally pale cheeks were flushed a light pink. _I'm definitely not all sober now. _How annoying. She shook her head, closing her eyes, the buzz of the alcohol making her feel a little light-headed. Even in the bathroom, she could hear the loud beat of the music in the nightclub, sliding insidiously into the room, wrapping around her. Beckoning to her, wanting her to enter its embrace…

_Just let loose. You know you want me – you know you desire me, even under the façade of indifference you put on. I know you know. So come to me…I'm waiting, and you know. You always know, don't you? The music is always there, patiently waiting for you to open up –waiting for you to become intoxicated by its presence, longing to pull you into its open arms. Don't deny you want it._

_Ah, but what music are you listening to?_

She turned away from the mirror. She wanted to leave – she was tired of the music, she wanted to go home. There was a back door, she remembered. She'd better take that – she didn't want Rin or Len to take her home. She was old enough to look after herself. Nor did she fear anyone in the dark – even while drunk, she knew enough about self-defence to protect her own modesty.

Her eighteenth birthday was such a downer. She would have been better off just staying at home. After all, she had never been one for parties – she had never been someone who enjoyed music and dancing very much. Sure, she was good at dancing. Sure, she was good at singing. But it didn't mean she liked being good at it…mainly because Len was good at them too. And she didn't want to be good at anything he was good at. _Isn't that like…copying him, in a way?_

The back door was unlocked, to her surprise. She thought the club wouldn't have left it that way. Opening the door, she slipped out into the night – and straightaway, she found herself pinned against the wall, an arm on either side of her head. She looked up – there were those familiar blue eyes, filled with the narrowly-veiled suspicion she was so accustomed to. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked. She hated his voice. She hated everything about him.

_I want absolutely nothing to do with you._

"None of your business," she growled out. "You might be my brother's friend, but it doesn't mean you have the right to interfere in what I'm doing," she tried to shove his hands away. All he did was reach out and grab her wrists, trapping them against the wall. She hissed at him. "Let go of me, Len," she said slowly.

"You are my responsibility," he spat. "Dammit, I never said I wanted anything to do with a little brat like you – but Mikuo asked me to make sure you won't get into any trouble tonight, and I won't go back on my promise," his grip on her tightened. It hurt. "Why won't you just bloody cooperate for once?"

"Why don't you just leave me alone for once?" she hissed back, ignoring the pain in her wrists. "Go back to Neru, she's probably wondering where the hell you are. You don't have the right to order me about!" her voice rose. "You might be nineteen, but you're only eight months older than me!"

"Neru?" his eyes narrowed further. "None of your business, Hatsune," he said coldly. "We're talking about _you _here – don't try to change the topic. You are so fucking _irresponsible_ – it's a wonder anyone would want to go out with you. Dammit, how am I supposed to answer to Mikuo if you sneak off like that and get raped by some slimy bastard? Are you freaking stupid or something?"

Her temper flared. The alcohol in her system wasn't helping matters. "You always try to control me!" his blue eyes were glaring into hers, and she glared back. "You are not my father! We're not related in any way – leave me alone! I hate you, Len Kagamine," she seethed. "I want nothing to do with you!"

"Miku Hatsune," his voice had gone deathly quiet. She stilled, sensing the boiling emotions simmering under that cool exterior. "You are a hateful pest. I didn't want Mikuo to let you follow us – hell, I told him to just leave you at home – but he didn't listen, and now I'm stuck with looking out for you while he's having some fun with some random chick he picked up at the bar. My patience is at its limit right now, and you'd better listen to me before I rip someone's head off. So shut your mouth for a second, would you?"

She could smell the alcohol in his breath. It made her feel faint. She considered saying no – but the deadly look he was giving her made her decide otherwise. She nodded, and his lips set into a scowl. He tugged on her wrist. "I'll see you home. I don't want to hear a single word out of you, because I've heard enough of your smartass-ness to last me an entire lifetime," he growled, clearly still annoyed. She rolled her eyes, but was careful to make sure he didn't see that.

His bright blond hair was out of its usual ponytail – and she was a little thankful for that, because his ponytail made him look gay as hell. Right now, his hair was brushing against his shoulders – silky as her own, she suspected. She wanted to touch his hair. Her fingers clenched, keeping her fist by her side – this was why she hated him. The way he made her long to do things she didn't want to do – because she didn't want to seem pathetic in front of him. Len was her brother's friend – she didn't want him to patronise her, to think of her as no more than a helpless child, seeking desperately for his attention.

She was painfully aware of his fingers, wrapped tightly around her wrist. She wondered how he knew she was going to leave the nightclub, much less by the backdoor. She wanted to ask him – but the black look on his face made her shut her mouth. The silence between them was awkward, filled with silent shouts and accusations. She hated being anywhere near him – hated the way he could shatter her confidence with a simple word or fleeting glance.

_I hate the way I seek your approval so much. Because you are my definition of perfect – because you are everything I know I can never be._

Perfect. Handsome, popular, charming, famous – everyone knew Len Kagamine, everyone wanted to be like him. He was not a ladies' man – though he did have flings with Neru Akita every once in a while – and people envied her because she was close to him, because he was her brother's best friend, because they thought she was blessed to always be within his godly presence.

She couldn't stand always being in his shadow. Or in Mikuo's shadow, for Mikuo too was considered to be the epitome of masculine perfection. She yearned for their approval, for _his_ approval – she craved recognition in her own right. She hated how being so close to him made her insignificant in its own way – all she was known for was for being Mikuo Hatsune's little sister.

Which was why she always tried to defy Len, to be as different from him as possible. There was nothing much she could do about Mikuo – he was, after all, her own brother – but she sure as hell could leave Len's shadow. She did whatever he told her not to. She made sure that she was nothing like him – she did her best to make herself seem completely dissimilar to Len. Her deviant behaviour annoyed him, she knew – he thought she was doing this just to make his life difficult. And, in a way, that was precisely what she was doing.

They were almost at her house. She would be alone tonight, she knew – every time Mikuo went out with a girl, he wouldn't return until tomorrow morning. Especially since it was the weekend now, and he didn't have school to worry about. Mikuo usually went out every night, since they lived so close to town – and to the nightclub scene. She knew Mikuo was a good drinker. She wasn't.

Then again, her not being a good drinker made her different from Len and her brother. So that was probably a good thing. Len unlocked the front door – Mikuo had probably given the spare set to Len, trusting him to bring his baby sister back home again – and she shoved past him, slamming the door shut behind her. The door didn't click shut, and she knew Len must have caught the door before it could close. He didn't say anything, so neither did she.

_There's no music in this dead, empty place – don't you find the silence loud?_

"You're drunk," the blond boy suddenly said, his voice abrupt and cutting. "You can't even walk straight, and you reek of alcohol. I told you not to drink so much. It's your first time drinking," he strode past her. _Probably going to the kitchen, where he belongs_ – she giggled a little at her own drunken thoughts.

"Get out of my house," she slurred a little. Was she slurring? She couldn't be sure. Maybe she was. "You're not welcome here, and you know it. And you don't know that it's my first time," she followed him to the kitchen. He was standing at the sink, running a white towel underneath warm water. She went straight to the fridge, opening the door – there were her brother's cans of Irish beer, and she took one, snapping the can open. "Mikuo has alcohol, you know."

"You're underage," he turned around, setting the towel down. Before Miku could drink, he snatched the can out of her hand. She glared at him – he didn't find it intimidating, since she looked too woozy to be of any threat. Her piercing green eyes usually sent shivers down his spine – he had never seen anyone else with those sort of eyes before. Even Mikuo…his eyes weren't like his sister's.

"Get out of my house, Kagamine," she was slurring. He ignored her again. She glared some more. "Give me back my beer," she demanded. She was starting to annoy him. He knew she didn't like him – though he sure as hell didn't know, or care about, why – and he sighed, kneading his forehead with his knuckles. She was such a burden. It was an incredible hassle to look out for this brat.

"If you drink anymore," he warned her, "I am going to kiss you to shut you up." He knew the threat would disgust her enough to make her listen. She couldn't stand him, and she wouldn't want him anywhere near her. The girl withdrew – the girl with her long teal hair and flashing green eyes, those pouty lips which always, always managed to draw his attention somehow – and hissed at him, reminding him of a cornered wildcat. She was certainly as feisty as one.

"I dare you to kiss me," she seethed, everything about her telling him to back off. Her stance was guarded, her arms folded across her chest. Her cheeks were flushed. Suddenly, he wondered what it would be like, to touch that soft pink skin, to caress her cheek and run his fingers through that long, silky hair. _I must be drunk. Dammit. Get a hold of yourself – she's your best friend's sister._

_Not to mention, she really hates your guts…_she was still standing there, her eyes challenging, her smirk satisfied, confident she had won. Sure he would never do it – he was, after all, Len Kagamine. Perfect Len Kagamine, who never did anything wrong, who was a model student, who would never take advantage of a drunken girl, who would never do anything to betray his reputation –

He lunged forward, his hands cupping her face, tilting it upwards, his lips covering hers. She stiffened – she was unmoving in his arms, his tongue brushing lightly against her lower lip, wanting her to respond. He tugged lightly on her bottom lip with his teeth, and she gasped – before she could pull away, he slid his hand around to the back of her head, his tongue sliding in to meet hers. After a few seconds, she started to respond to his touch.

Her fingers clawed. Her arms pushed. Her lips tried to withdraw – she tried to shove him away, her body rejecting his – he held on fast, not letting her escape, knowing she wouldn't be able to win the fight. He didn't notice when he had backed her into the wall – he didn't notice anything but the taste of cherries and alcohol, the softness of skin and the silkiness of long teal hair.

Eventually, her struggles ceased, and she collapsed into his arms, her body pliant and soft. Tentatively, hesitantly, she started to kiss back, almost like a shy maiden. He wasn't used to it – almost preferred it when she was trying to push him away – and he growled. He literally _growled_, like a feral animal, and she broke away from him, gasping heavily. Her green eyes were heavy-lidded.

"You…" she breathed out, breath coming out in pants. "Don't do that again," she warned, her fingernails digging tightly into his skin. He found that he didn't mind the pain. _But this is stupid. I shouldn't be doing this. She's Mikuo's sister. Fuck. Why am I touching her? _He couldn't breathe. She was so bloody irritating – but she was as beautiful and sensuous as hell. He wanted her. _He always had._

Always trying to deny his attraction to her, and always failing – she pissed him off on a regular basis, but he could never help desiring more than venom-laden words from her, more than the cold glares she always shot him. He wondered if he was masochistic. He wondered if she was sadistic. He wondered if they both knew, all along, and were just playing along…pretending nothing had changed.

"Fuck you," he whispered, his voice filled with spite. She always tempted him. Even at the nightclub earlier, while he was making out with Neru – the reason why he chose Neru was because of how much she looked like _her. _Whenever he kissed Neru, it was _her _soft skin he felt, _her _long hair he stroked, _her _soft lips he tasted. It was torture – but it felt so sweet. He hated it. He adored it.

"You'll have to wait a long time for that, Kagamine," she answered, her voice filled with mocking scorn. Her gaze flickered away from him. "Let go of me," she raised her voice. The slur was obvious – clearly, she couldn't hold her drink well. He didn't listen to her – all he did was slide his hand up, letting his fingers glide gently down her cheek. He felt her shiver, and hoped it was a good sign. A sign that she enjoyed it, and not that she was repulsed by his touch.

He had never had a girlfriend before. _Because she is the only one I want. _A series of flings, rarely lasting long, always with girls who resembled her in some way – substitutes for what he couldn't have. Miku Hatsune, his best friend's sister, untouchable territory. An untouchable girl, someone who detested him – he knew she hated him, didn't understand why, didn't care to find out why – _in the end, it's not like I'm allowed to touch her, anyway._

He could feel her warm breath against his skin – they were that close. Her breath reeked of alcohol. He wondered how much she had drunk. "You shouldn't drink so much when your tolerance level isn't high," he told her, winding strands of her hair around his fingers. "Someone might take advantage of you." _I'll murder the bastard who ever dares to lay a single finger on you._

"Like whom?" she laughed, "You?" Her green eyes pierced him. Even when drunk, her gaze didn't fail to make him shiver. _I want you so badly, it drives me mad…especially since I know you won't let me touch you. Especially since you're my best friend's sister, and I shouldn't touch you, shouldn't want you, shouldn't crave your touch – _he was a freaking masochist, and he detested it. Who would ever guess that the perfect Len Kagamine was anything like this? That he would be so weak, so helpless, when it came to this frail-looking girl?

She was wearing her favourite white tank top, and dark blue denim shorts. She didn't look like she had just gone out to a club – she looked so youthful and fresh and innocent, younger than her apparent age of eighteen, and he felt almost ashamed wanting her that way. _But I can't help myself. _He swallowed, looking away from her – dammit, why did she affect him so badly?

She sensed he wasn't about to answer her question. "Back off," she warned, her hands reaching up to his shoulders, readying to push him away. She wasn't feeling comfortable. He was much too close to her – and that kiss they just shared…she didn't know how she felt about it. She couldn't say she hated it – in fact, she enjoyed it quite a little, but she would rather die than admit it. She was supposed to hate him, supposed to stay away from him, stay out of his shadow – but with one little kiss, everything came undone, and she caved in to him.

His blond hair was tickling her neck. It was as silky as she thought it would be. Len stared at her, his blue eyes filled with obvious confusion – before she could do anything, he took one of her hands, placing it against his chest, over his heart. She stilled – she could feel his heart, racing beneath her touch. She glanced up at him. Conflict swirled in those eyes, wonderment and confusion, all at once.

She didn't know what to think, or how to react. She just wanted to run away from the whole situation – why had everything changed, quicker than the blink of an eye? She tried to pull her hand away, but his own hand kept hers there, and she couldn't move away from him. She swallowed, averting her gaze, staring resolutely down at the kitchen floor. Gentle fingers tilted her chin up, and she found that she was staring into his blue eyes – eyes the colour of a cerulean sky – and he was asking her a question with that searching gaze.

"Why do you hate me so much?" he verbalised the question. She didn't know what to say, how she was supposed to explain her own irrational feelings – _I hate you because I'm tired of always being in your shadow, I hate you because of how much I yearn for your approval, I hate you because you're perfect. _His thumb rubbed circles over her cheek, his touch feather-light, barely there.

"I just do," was all she finally said, her voice shaking a little. She gnawed on her lower lip, studying him – his eyes had never left her face, and now he was studying her too. She wondered what he was seeing as he stared at her. "How did you know I was going to leave?" she asked, changing the topic. She was rather curious about how he knew – how he had guessed where she was going.

"Rin told me. I guessed you might try to leave, and not by the front door since you would want to avoid us. I know you better than you might think," he added, at the look of incredulity on her face. His eyes narrowed subtly, and he leant in even closer to her – she wanted to back away, but there was a wall behind her, and all she could do was watch as his lips came closer and closer to hers.

"So you hate me because…you just do," he breathed. _He's too close to me – I feel uncomfortable. _Their lips were only a hair's breadth apart. She found that she was strangely open to the idea of kissing him again. "That's strange. But I've always liked a challenge," he smiled, causing her to blush slightly. _Dammit. I'm behaving like a love-struck little girl – he might think I actually like him. But I don't! I hate him! _She bared her teeth at him, and he just laughed.

To her surprise, he ducked his head, nuzzling into her neck. Her blush deepened. "Get…off!" she yelped, trying to shove him away again. His arms slid around her, and she couldn't move – he was stronger than her. She shivered, feeling his lips trailing across the sensitive skin of her neck – when he licked a spot, right beneath her ear, she squeaked. _That felt good…_she felt him smirk against her skin. "Len, I will bite you," she gasped out, an angry warning.

"I think I'll enjoy that," was the infuriating reply. "I've always preferred someone to be feisty," his fingers slid down her arms. "I want more," he suddenly whispered, making her blink. "I want more than you're willing to offer me. I want more than I should take now, since you're not sober – I want more than you can guess at. I've longed for more – I've dreamt of you, and I ache when I realise I'm alone in bed, and you're not with me. I hate you for that."

He was brutally honest. She didn't know what to say, or how to react – she had never encountered this kind of situation before. She had rarely allowed her boyfriends to go beyond simple kissing and hugging. She just felt that she wasn't ready for that sort of thing – yet, she didn't mind this, she didn't mind his touch. "I shouldn't be touching you," he murmured, voice agonisingly soft. "Mikuo will kill me for doing this. He's so protective of you…but dammit," he groaned, "you're so soft, Miku, it's a sweet torture to touch you this way."

"When did you start liking me?" she must have said the question aloud, in her dazed state, because Len raised his head and stared at her, his blue eyes still filled with so much conflict. She was confused too, for she had known Len since her childhood, and she had never gotten the sense that he was interested in her that way. She never knew that he felt anything but impatience and irritation, when it came to her. She thought that she annoyed him.

"After I broke up with Teto - but that was more of a fling than an actual relationship, now that I think about it," was the quiet reply. "Two years ago. I was moping, I admit it – but then you came into the house, while Mikuo was being an ass and trying to jerk me out of my misery. I saw you. And I realised how much you had changed – because all along, I could only see you as your younger self, I had managed to convince myself that you hadn't changed since you were six. Because I didn't want to fall for my best friend's sister."

She remembered that day. She had gone out with Piko, her boyfriend then, to watch a movie. She recalled coming back home to find Len sitting on the couch, staring into blank space, her elder brother making futile attempts to drag him out of his misery. She just ignored the scene, for it was nothing to do with her – but she remembered the way Len turned to stare at her, the way he didn't look away, the way his gaze followed her up the stairs. She had felt him watching.

"You were so damn gorgeous. All of a sudden, I saw, and I noticed – I still recall what you were wearing then. Just a simple white and blue summer dress – but you glowed in it. And I realised I wanted you. Not anyone else, not Teto…I wanted you. I swore that one day, I would make you mine, though I knew that I shouldn't think that way. Though I knew you only saw me as your elder brother's best friend, and you had a boyfriend at the time. I…I yearned for you."

_I yearned for you. _The words hit her hard, and she wasn't even sure why. "I ache for you," he breathed, bending his head so that his blond fringe covered his eyes. "I crave you so much that I would take anything you gave me – a frigid glare, a poisonous word – so long as I was acknowledged in some way. By you. You made me feel weak and helpless – and I couldn't help but want more."

_What am I supposed to say now?_

She shook her head. Denial always worked – this couldn't be true, could it? He was joking. This was some kind of prank. A good one, she had to admit, but she could see through the joke. "It's not funny, Len," she laughed a little. The laugh sounded forced. His blue eyes narrowed at her, and she suddenly felt a little nervous – she didn't know why, it wasn't the first time Len was irritated with her. After all, she pissed him off on a pretty regular basis, she knew.

"Hatsune, I'm serious," he said evenly. "Do you want to know how much I want you?" he didn't give her time to reply. "Every few nights, I wake up in my bed, covered in sweat, filled with so much goddamn lust – because you come to my dreams, you tempt me so fucking much that I…" his voice trailed off. He visibly swallowed. "Dammit," he whispered, "I don't want to frighten you. But whenever I look into your eyes, whenever I see how bloody innocent you really are compared to me, I feel like a freaking paedophile. I'm just a sad bastard."

His hands cupped her face. His fingers stroked her skin, as though he was trying to convince himself that she was really there, that it wasn't just a dream. She still didn't know what to say. She felt she would never know what to say.

Len was berating himself. _Fuck. Why did I tell her all that? _He saw the silent confusion in her eyes, the way she stared at him, struggling to think of something to say. He was putting her in a spot. But…_I've really wanted her for so long. It's frustrating, to crave someone close to you – so close, yet so far. I see her almost every day, and that doesn't help. _Yeah, he was a sorry bastard. Lusting after his best friend's sister. He knew it was creepy of him.

She was so soft. Such softness…it had to be a sin, a dream, a sinful dream. Was he dreaming? He had never held her in his dreams before – always, she was there, and always, she was unreachable. No matter how much he reached out, she was always out of his league, always somewhere ahead of him. It frustrated him – it annoyed him, it pissed him off. He still wondered if he was asleep.

The real Miku would never allow him to touch her. Would she? He didn't know. She tasted like cherries and warm whiskey. Gently, he brushed his lips against hers again, and she didn't push him away this time. It was a softer kiss, less wanting and possessive than the first – a kiss which asked a question, instead of demanding control. She allowed him to kiss her, and slowly, he grew bolder, his fingers sliding up her shirt, feeling her skin against his fingertips.

He wanted to whimper. Her body was pressed against his – she reached up, her arms looping around his neck, as into the kiss as he was. He reached down, touching her bare leg – she let him push her further back into the wall, using it as leverage to wrap her legs around his waist. _It's perfect – she's perfect. I could die now, and leave happy. _His eyes were closed, just revelling in the sensations he could feel – her soft warmth wrapping around him, cocooning him.

"Len," she whispered his name, sounding breathless. He stiffened – _did she just say my name? _"Len," she repeated, nuzzling against his cheek – his heart was racing, his fingers still. _Oh God. Please don't let this be a dream…please. I don't want to be tortured any more. I don't want this to be an illusion – I don't want to wake up and lose this closeness to her, I don't want her to hate me – _he hugged her close to him, wanting her to belong to him. To him, and only him.

_I want to mark her as mine, somehow. So no one else will ever touch her. So that I know she's mine forever, as I am hers. _"Do you hate me?" he asked her, the question soft. She looked dazedly up at him, her green eyes still heavy-lidded, her pouty, sweet lips swollen from his kisses. _Oh God. _She was so unbearably tempting. "Miku…" he murmured her name, almost a plea.

"I don't know," she answered, sounding hesitant. "I…I don't," her beautiful eyes met his. He dove back into what they were doing, with a sudden ferocity that caused her to shudder and moan – he literally attacked her, with the desperation of a man about to lose what was most precious to him. She just responded, unable to deny him what he wanted. What he craved for.

"Please don't let this be a dream," he grazed her ear with his teeth, his eyes closing. "Watching and waiting and wanting…" his knuckles brushed against her cheek. She could feel him – she ran her fingers through his hair, touching the soft strands, the silken locks which were as fine and smooth as her own. The bright blond shimmered even in the dim light of the kitchen. She could scarcely believe what was happening – she could barely believe that he really liked her, that he had always liked her, that _she, _of all people, tempted him this way.

_His words sound like music, his voice a sweet melody. I can't believe I shut myself away from music for so long – what have I been missing out on?_

"You are beautiful, you are lovely, you are _mine_," he suddenly claimed, his hands running through her hair. "No one else can touch you. You don't know how much it hurt, how miserable I felt, every time I saw you with another boy. How much effort it took to pretend that I didn't give a damn," he held a lock of her hair to his lips. "You'll promise me that, won't you?" his gaze seared her.

She nodded – somehow, she couldn't seem to find her voice. He was being possessive. That was something she normally found rather irritating, but she didn't seem to mind when Len was this way. She leant her forehead against his, and he sighed. He sounded…happy, she realised. It had been a long time since she last saw him being happy. She was so used to him being aloof and cold.

_Let the music fill and intoxicate you, lose yourself in its touch…so long as you're willing to dance to the beat, the music would do anything you ask._

"And Miku?" she glanced up at him. He smiled. "Happy eighteenth birthday."

* * *

_**Solitaryloner: **__I feel like a pervert again. It's been way too long since I last wrote pervy stuff – or any stuff, for that matter. This is all just pervy stuff. The story is unlikely to be continued. Anyway, reviews are appreciated._


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